Two Beds and a Coffeemachine
by Moxie2
Summary: Kayla's life when modled a little after a Savage Garden Song.
1. Realization

Two Beds and a Coffee Machine

Two Beds and a Coffee Machine

Her groan filled the small space she occupied on the bed as her back feel on the soft of the mattress. She winced when the pain of the descent etched throughout her nerves and felt the hot sting of tears well to her eyes as the golden streams of the sun fell carelessly across her face. She heard the creak of the door ahead of her and turned to block herself from the opening. The feel of his hand was laid against her arm and the feel of his lips fell on her temple. She sucked in breath she deprived herself when she heard his steps on the carpet growing faint and turned in the pained position she had revolved to at the moment she awoke. Her hands gripped the sheets, her knuckles growing pale and wet from the clutching of the comforter and the flow of her tears. A feeble cry could be heard and she sniffled before rising up from her bed and leaving the room, her bare feet taping on the white beneath them. Her hand pushed open the door and she moved to the wooden rails that separated her and her and the angelic child inside of it. She smiled painfully at the small child that lay almost inaudibly wailing from behind the bars. The feel of her soft skin warmed her as her body was held in the woman's arms and the wail grew to a whimper until silence filled the room. The child's small fingers entangled with hers and she whispered soft tales to the child as she sat them in a rocking chair with bars much like that of the crib. Her hand brushed back the curled dark hair of the little one in her arms and she watched as she slowly closed her eyes. She glanced away from the youth as tears welled in her eyes while waiting for her husband to make his return. 

Her lips curved to a feeble smile as he embraced her on the pearl white sofa. She could smell the odor of intoxication on his breath and feel his arms reached for her waist, a grin embroidering his face. Her worn eyes, permitting the familiar look as her lips trembled beneath his. She could feel his weight pressing against her and she could only mummer muffled words, pleading for him to rise from her frail body. His weight was immovable and she squirmed against him, his hands clinging to her wrist, his lips to her mouth muffling her cries. "Please…" She held her to him even tighter almost as if just to keep her from suffocation and moved his hand swiftly across her chest until the mummers stopped and she gasped. He freed her for a moment to unzip his pants and he felt her move out from under him. She moved towards the miniature table beside the couch and he grasped her arm, only to fling her down on the carpet. A sharp shriek sounded when the table shook and the lap atop it fell and shredded glass embedded itself into the floor. His weight fell on her once again and she could hear the weak cry of her child in the room above her. She could hear herself sobbing as he removed the blouse she wore, exposing the bruises from the night before. 

She felt a searing pain take over her senses as she attempted to move from her sprawled position on the floor. Her eyes slit open, eyeing him as he stumbled up the stairs. She pushed herself up and exhaled hard, drying her tears with her bare arms, and pulling the shirt over her head. She held herself up on the long spiral railing as she shuffled along the staircase. She pushed her hand against the closed door preparing to cleanse her from the routine shower and she spotted him fumbling the knob of her child's door. She headed for the door and she laid a protective hand on his arm. "What are you doing?" He glared forcefully at her with the eyes that had stared icily at her the night before when she had smelt the scent of that woman on his body. 

"I'm teaching her not to be like her mother." He clasped her wrists in his hands and she could feel herself being driven forcefully against the wall behind her and his hands like whips being driven across her body.

She held its sleeping body in her arms and slung the bag over her shoulder and pulled the door to the frame leaving the unconscious body of her husband left on the floor of the tiled living room. She descended the tiled steps in front of the eloquent five-figure home before placing her child in the secured car seat and slamming the door hard preparing her to not look back. 

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She watched the reporters speak in small voices on the television as she sat on the edge of the bed in the fairly sized hotel room, every so often looking back at the small girl that slept cushioned on her back behind her. She looked down at her hands and breathed deeply, only to have her head shoot up at the sound of a vaguely familiar voice.

Who else but the Famous Jett Jackson was on her television screen? God, how long has it been since she'd seen Jett, much less thought about Wilsted, and yet here she was. Why had she come here where he could easily find her? As if he couldn't find her wherever it was she went? She exhaled and shrugged it off and looked back up at the screen.

She smiled at the memory of their last day together. Graduation had been the day before and they were all saying their good-byes with their families. The ridiculous amount of money that had been promised to Jett had finally come on his eighteenth birthday and they were all off to high education. Jett to UCLA where he continued to pursue his acting and had done well for himself from all his promotions and stories she had seen of him on television. J.B. had accompanied him, but the last time she'd heard from him, he'd told her that he wasn't made for the city, that they all knew, and J.B. had found out. He had simply gone back to Wilsted and took over the store and later opened a chain of the Halliburton's stores. Riley had become Mrs. Halliburton, not to anyone's surprise and Kayla was unsure of what had happened with Riley. She, on the other hand, had gone to MIT on a scholarship with a promising future in science. It was there that she had met Jeffery McCormick, her future husband. She laughed at the thought of his amazing transformation. He had been so charming, theoretic, and philosophical. He was actually too good to be true, but she hadn't taken time to notice that. As soon as graduation came and she gained her masters, they had gotten married with his family and almost half of Wilsted at the attendance. A while later they moved to upstate New York and after a year of marriage, had changed on her. He had become the macho, womanizer she had learned to hate so much. He drank…a lot, she was forbidden to work, but she was the trophy doll of Mr. McCormick, the infamous celebrity lawyer. She didn't work, under the suggestion of her husband. She had become weak and submissive and he had learned various ways to cut her off from all contact between her and her family and before she knew it, she had become his. He had immense ownership over her and she hadn't bothered to think for herself anymore, only her daughter, and had become nothing more than a zombie to him. 

She came from her reverie and looked back up at the screen. His smile was emanating from the screen and she found herself smiling back at the screen. She had fallen in love with that smile… that was before they grew up and were simply forced to move on, leaving him behind with his blossoming career. She'd missed him over the years. His charm and J.B.'s optimism were all things she'd been drained of and yearned for even now. 

That was the end of that, those pesky thoughts from the past only brought tears to her eyes. Where she was going and figuring out what to do now that she was home, was now the problem at hand. 

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"Oh, she's so adorable." She forced a smile and turned the woman to her side, perching her daughter on her thigh before buckling her into the rear of the cart. "Oh, thank you." She placed a carton of milk into the cart and took a paper into her hands. She moved the cart as she walked along the aisle and noticed the woman still walking beside her. "How old is she?" She held the smile. "Six months." The woman commented on her daughter's age and was prompted to ask another question when a voice piped up, announcing the sale of Polygrip in aisle two and she watched the woman smile politely and dash off. She let out a breath and smiled, turning to meet the voice. "Thank you so-" Her voice caught in her throat and she stood almost paralyzed, her mouth parted slightly as she looked at him. "Kayla," the only word he breathed as they stood looking on at one another. Finally breaking the moment he broke out into an eccentric grin and took her into his arms, not noticing her wince as he did it. She too soon broke out into a genuine smile as they parted. "It's been such a long time, Jett." (Well what kind of story would it be if he didn't show up, huh?)

"I know, I know."

"What are you doing here? Last I heard, you were in California." 

"Yeah well, I needed some time off."

"So you come to Wilsted." He smiled and replied, "It soothes me. Other than TV, we haven't had much contact with one another. I thought you lived in New York. How long have you been here in Wilsted?" Her smile began to fade as she said, "I just drove in yesterday, and well… I do live in New York, but there are complications." He looked concerned for only a solitary minute before perking up again. "Then you can tell me all about it over lunch." She raised her eyebrows, "and bring the little one with you."

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He watched as she placed the small child with her juice bottle in the high chair that the stroller, with its many facades, had devised. "This is…this is amazing. I didn't know they had houses like this is Wilsted." 

He lifted his fork to his mouth. "They don't, normally. The owner before me had it built. I use it when I come out here so I don't burden anyone during vacations." 

"Modest." He grinned, "Yeah, it is, isn't it?" She smiled as he feigned pretentiousness. 

"You live here, in this enormous place all by yourself?" 

"Hey, I'm not all by myself. I've got Rex." She looked over at the lethargic bulldog and laughed. "Right."

"Don't they have houses like this is grand 'ole New York?"

"Of course they do, but my enormous house contains two living members."

"Well, Rex needs his space." She rolled her eyes and he simulated offence before a small silence broke.

"So, why haven't you called? None of us have seen, much less heard from you since the wedding." She slightly twirled the fork in her hand, conducting a simple enough alibi in her head. "I guess I've just been busy, Jett."

"Busy enough to not be able to at least write your parents? They've been worried sick about you, K." She noted his seriousness as he stared at her, waiting for a legit answer. "As a matter of fact, I have. Don't turn this all on me Jett. You haven't exactly been the faithful correspondent." 

"I've called and I've written you, K. we all have." A genuine look of perplexity grazed her face. "What?" His face softened and met her look. "You didn't know?" 

"No," her voice was small and broke slightly. "Humph, that's weird." 

She swallowed and looked up to meet him from the position her eyes had down at her plate. She shrugged slightly and smiled. "I'm sure they just got lost in the mail, and as for the phone calls… I can't explain those." 

His voice came out as a mummer as he whispered something to himself and she looked up at him, unsure of what he'd said. "Hmm?" 

"How are things with you and Jeffery?" 

"Oh, uh, great. They really are." She stopped and her smile widened as she turned to her daughter, "Especially now that we have Holly." The angelic infant gurgled slightly as she clasped her mother's finger. "She really is adorable." She bit her lips, almost grinning while running her thumb across Holly's cheek. 

"You seem pretty content with life the way it is." She turned back to him and breathed, "I am." After a pause she spoke up. "I saw your movie." He grinned as she said that. "Killer robots, blood, gore, action."

"Yeah, well, my agent recommended I do it to gain a higher percentage of male supporters." 

"You might be the next Jean Claude Van Dam of the industry." 

"I was going for James Bond, but at least I get to hold a great big machine gun!" 

"Here's to hoping!" I quiet hit after they shared their jokes and Jett suddenly became serious again. "So, why are you here, K?" 

"Jeffrey's… away on business and I think I need to get away from the Big Apple for a little while." He smiled, "Great, then why don't you stay here? Later on we can go and say 'Hi' to all the little people we've left behind here in Wilsted." 

"I don't know, Jett. I'm already staying somewhere." 

"Where?" 

"A hotel." 

"Oh, yeah, well, a hotel. Why would you want to stay here?" 

"Jett…"

"I have three bedrooms that I'm not even using and the other two I'm using for exercise machines and reading, really. Besides, it's like you said, I live in this enormous house all by myself." Her lips parted and she opened and closed it trying to form the words, but looked on the puppy face he was forming and caved in. "Alright, fine." 

"Great! We'll go pick up your stuff and bring it over here and figure out what room we can put you, and little Holly in." He walked over to the infant, carefully playing with the hands she seemed to experiment with so much, causing the small child to laugh. 

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The story sucks really and it's been sitting on my computer for a while so I figured I might as well post it. If you like it I'll write more so review…for your benefit. 


	2. Welcome and Suspicion

Two Beds and a Coffee Machine

The door opened to reveal the smile of a vivacious looking woman. She stood in the frame, looking at the young woman before her. Her mouth fell in surprise, her eyes glued to the silent person. "Oh my god…" She embraced the one she mothered and let out a small cry before releasing her. "Oh, sweetie." 

"Hi… Mom." Those were the only words she could form before her eyes welled with tears and resembled that of her mother. She saw her father approaching them and his long arms quickly embraced her. The three stood speechless for a moment unsure of what to say until Jett poke his head in and waved the small hand. "Hi!" Kayla's mother broke out into a large grin, her eyes widening. She squealed as she made her way to her granddaughter and Kayla stepped out of the frame and into the house. 

She took Holly from Jett and began to let her tears roam her cheek as she looked on at the child. She looked hopefully at Jett and his eyes bulged and he vigorously shook his head. She turned back to her daughter and directed the hopeful gaze towards Kayla and she nodded. A squeal was heard from her again and they gave amused chuckles. Her mother kept busy with amusing herself with Holly and Mr. West spoke up. "Well, uh, I'm glad you came. J.B. and Riley are already here." Here eyes lit up at the word, much like the light that shone when she'd seen Jett and her parents. The five of them were led into the living room where an approaching Riley and J.B. stopped dead in their tracks at the sight of her. The two girls screamed and ran towards one another, hugging and parting, Kayla's eyes locked on Riley's stomach and she grinned. They squealed again and it was as if a year hadn't passed, but they were still at the wedding, if not graduation and all was well again. 

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His finger traced the rim of the coffee mug as he looked at the twenty-four-year-old across from him. "Riley and the Wests are so happy to see her that they're not questioning it."

"I'm really happy she's here and I think it's great to see her after such a long time, but it doesn't make sense." 

"I know what you mean. For her to just show up after such a long time without any communication at all just bothers me."

"Well, did she tell you why she's here?" 

"She said that Jeffrey's on a business trip and she came out here on a little vacation." 

"It's believable."

"Yeah, not tangible though. You were the last person she spoke to, J.B., what'd you two talk about before she stopped writing?" 

"The usual. We spoke about work, the fact that she was pregnant, and how everyone was doing…but I remember in one letter, I don't think it was her last, but she had something to tell me." 

"Did you find out what it was?"

J.B. sighed, "Nope. She'd just stopped writing and the only time saw her after that was on TV with Mr. Prestigious Lawyer of Filthy Rich and Guilty Celebrities."

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He was staring at the ceiling of his bedroom as he lay on the posh steady silk covers of the bed. He remembered her as she walked down the aisle in the crystal beaded white dress, its long train flowing behind her. He never forgot how he wished she was gliding with her father to have arm in arm laced with his. She looked excruciatingly happy. Her features shone when Jeffery turned to meet her. 

He didn't understand the attraction then and he never understood it while they dated. Jeffrey seemed like he hadn't cared for her at all, but needed a notch on his bedpost. A notch that he could only get from Kayla once a band was on her finger. He'd shrugged the feelings off, but regretted doing it when he lost contact with her, and he still regretted ignoring the signs of what he thought was a failing marriage. Thoughts had occurred to him every so often of acting on the marriage's weaknesses and it would hopefully have him and Kayla engage in the relationship he'd always wanted with her and could never have. 

His head turned to the side and spotted the single white aged petal of a lilac that stood in the thin vase on the nightstand. His face was somber and he broke out into a small smile when he remembered how much of a fuss the press made about that flower. He would stand at the podium, golden statue in his hand and always thank the one he called his "little lilac". The next morning a picture a photographer had taken of him at the podium, with some sort of headline quote mentioning the lilac in Jett's speech had been plastered on the cover of the "Inquirer". Inside somewhere would be images of various women that they had found a way to link him to. Movie stars, or other types of celebrities that would bring fans and reporters to a frenzy and him to tears from laughing. 

His attention turned back up to the ceiling but his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a shrill cry. He groaned and headed out the door and down the hall towards the room that he'd insisted Kayla place Holly in so that she would get a break from having to put up moments like this. The door creaked under the cry as he pushed it open. Noise enveloped his ears and he took the screaming child from her barred bed he had borrowed from an elder neighbor.

"Okay, Holly, work with me here." He held her up by her underarms and jotted her gently up and down and she began to cry louder. She placed her horizontally in his arms and held her neck up with his arm. He rocked her gently and grinned at her, remembering how baby's mimic sometimes. When that failed, he hushed her gently and whispered to her. She quieted only a little and he rose his voice over her cries, singing a lullaby he remembered from his mother, at times when he was younger.

"Breath of heaven…" As he quietly sang the song he looked at the child when she began to soften her cries. For a moment he stopped trying to keep his voice low to prevent humiliation and noted how she reminded him of her mother. Her light brown hair curling slightly as they slid back across her tan skin. She resembled only peace, her tiny hand furling within his. Her lips touched with fine pink as they parted slightly. Only for a moment, he thought of Holly as his. 

Kayla stepped groggily down the hall and stopped at the doorframe ready to hold her daughter when she spotted him rocking her, as she grew quiet, to a complete mummer and gurgle, signifying her contact with sleep. She stood by the door for a few moments smiling gingerly at the sight before she slipped out of the doorframe and tiptoed back down the hall, slipping into her room.

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She had been here for almost a week and she had been welcomed warmly by the entire town, which seemed to have missed her, as much as she did them. Holly had become Wilsted's very own, as they all found Holly in their arms at some time or another, Mrs. West, the most. If she hadn't known better, she would've thought that Jett had fallen in love with Holly. He played with her, cuddled her, and fed her whenever he could. But as good as things seemed she couldn't shrug off the fact that she knew he had a growing suspicion. He had stopped asking 'why' and hadn't bothered since the day of the lunch. She wasn't blind, he was biting his tongue for now, but she knew it would come out and she would be forced to tell him. A creak sounded from the faucet as she turned it, stopping the flow of clear moisture. Her feet hit the porcelain floor and she reached for the towel at the side, lying on the rack. She heard the faint slam of the door and shuffling below. Jett had just arrived with Holly from their rendezvous through the park. Much more to Jett's benefit than Holly, who was happy just standing up without her head tipping her over. 

She walked in her room, closing the door behind her. She placed on the clothes that sat on the chair by the wall, wincing every so often. With the clasp of her bra secure, she turned to the blaring radio and reached for the knob to lower the sound. She turned back to reach for the shirt; the only item left on the chair and her eyes bulged, her hand clutching the material. He stood staring at her, swallowing hard. She loosened her grip on the shirt and quickly pulled it over her head and her arms through the sides. It was her turn to swallow hard and she turned away from him knowing what he saw. He continued to stand at the door, speechless and finally turned it closed. (Oh like you didn't see that coming!)

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She was asleep now and made the soft noises that merged with the silence. Kayla closed the door and left the elegantly colored surface of the room. She walked the room she inhabited for now and saw him sitting in the darkness of the unlit room. With the light streaming from the hall, she saw his head buried in his hands, his body resting on the edge of the bed. He sensed her there, silently watching him and looked up to meet her eyes. He stood and approached her, only stopping when they were inches away from one another. His face was somber and his eyes pierced her and again she looked away from him. His voice cut through the silence, almost startling her at the unfamiliar sounds it made. It was gruff and raspy as he said the one word that developed into an entire question. "Why?" She walked past him with her back turned to him as she undid the fold of the comforters on the bed. "Why would you let him do that to you?" She was silent and they still had no eye contact. Jett hadn't moved from the spot where he stood until now and sat back on the edge of the bed. 

He smiled bitterly to himself. "I remember every detail of your wedding. The dress you wore the smile that was plastered across your face. You looked amazing in that dress. Studded with the crystal beads along the hems and the flowers that rested, entangled in your hair. I hadn't like him much, you know that, but I was so happy for you Kayla. I never saw you again after that but you were always on television, standing side to side, hand in hand with Jeff, looking together…so perfect. He stood at the podium, speaking on his client's behalf, or talking about your home life when a reporter would ask. It was simple perfection. Now every time I look at you, all I'll be able to see are the bruises on your back. Enveloping you with blue and black, no sign of your tan skin." He stopped talking and there was silence again growing increasingly loud. The mute of the room grew so uncomfortable that a shriek seemed to form in their ears, but he continued to wait, to sit in the uninterrupted silence. 

"That first year, he had yet to change. He was still the charming man I'd found myself falling in love with. It resembled everything I let the press believe later on. They had earned a growing interest in me after one of my paintings was auctioned off for an obscene amount of money. I relished the thought of earning profit from something I enjoyed doing so much. Then one night, we sat together on the couch in the living room paying only slight attention to the television. He snapped his head away from me and eyed the television when he heard my voice coming over the speakers of the TV. We had our first fight that night as he explained to me how he felt he had simply become the 'Artist's Husband'. We had similar fights like that for the next month or so. Things so trivial had become simply grown into incredulously large fights. I'll never forget one night when I he had come home late and I was waiting for him with this dinner I'd prepared, half out of guilt for how terrible I felt. He came staggering in and I walked up to him but he only pushed me away. I didn't understand it just then until I smelt the odor alcohol on him. He started talking about how he was just sick of everything and how he'd just had about enough. Things were said that I suppose shouldn't have been said and he began to walk up the steps, but I stopped him and he turned to me, hitting me hard across the face and gripping my wrists. Jeff had never touched me like that, even in times of anger. He knelt down to me looking sincere for only a second until I felt his lips on mine and smelt the slight scent of a woman's perfume on him. I tried to push him off of me but he only went on until I woke up the next morning on the staircase, recalling the night before. I never once realized that things could possibly get that bad and my heart nearly broke when I found that I was pregnant and realized Holly was conceived that night…on that night of pain." She stopped, drifted from her words as she stared out into space and realized that Jett had suddenly moved himself close to her. Her voice began choking up and she stopped speaking, trying to collect herself. She laughed bitterly for a minute. "Things just got worse and he learned how to isolate me, and I grew despondent and went along with it. I don't know why I let it go on, but it simply became routine after a while and he even began being conscientious about where he hit me."

"I finally left when he'd gone up the stairs to Holly's room almost a week ago. He almost slumped against the wall, being as drunk as he was and I knew that I had to leave that night. I had to leave Jett. I couldn't let him hurt her, too." Her voice went down to what was almost a whisper and she retreated into herself. He ignored the questions racing through his mind and touched her arm, where she jerked away from him before he pulled her to him. "I won't let him touch you, K. I promise." (Okay, so it got cheesy. I'm not friggin' or Keats or Shakespeare okay?)

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More to come and hopefully I'll have something fit for Lifetime. 


	3. Look Mommy!

He ran a hand through his dark hair and slammed his fist hard on the dashboard, regretting his environment. The sky swarmed with two colors of dark blue, the sun far from rising. The silence of the car rang in his ear and he found himself tightening his grip on the wheel of the car. He looked up at the small highway sign and he mumbled bitterly to himself as he mimicked the words on the sign. "'Welcome to Wilsted'. Cheery." 

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Her eyes meet the glow of the morning when they fluttered open. She felt that dizziness from her sleep and heard he cry from down the hall. She groaned and squirmed in the bed, feeling Jett's body against hers. She forced herself up, not forcing conscientiousness. Jett slept like a rock. "Looks like Mommy fell asleep somewhere she shouldn't have." She took a minute to get herself off the bed and run out of the room and out of the hall in her checkered pajamas she'd acquired sometime before marriage. She eased the door of Lorelei's bedroom door open and picked up the wailing child. She quieted down only barely at the sight of her mother and was carried back down the incredibly long corridor of the small screen star and down his spiral staircase into the kitchen. Kayla using whatever parental skills she'd learned, to calm the child. The nozzle of the cup was put into the Lorelei's mouth and she stopped her wailing. Lorelei held her cup as her mother placed her into the highchair. 

"If it wasn't for Lore, I would've thought you left." She turned to Jett's voice as he came down the staircase.

"It's not my fault if you have the ability to sleep through a thunderstorm." He noticed her eyes wandering around the kitchen and searching through the cupboards. "What are you looking for?" 

"A pot," she answered. 

"A what?" 

She looked up at him, "A pot." 

"I'm sorry, I'm not familiar with those." 

"You know, one of those long things that Corretta always made your breakfast in."  

"Aw, you're making me breakfast?" 

"Oh, I'm sorry, is that the impression you got? I was just making breakfast for me." 

He stuck his tongue out at her before starting over. "So back to this pot business." 

"It goes on the stove," she informed as she went on looking. 

"Stove?" 

"That thing over there." She pointed to the extremely clean black kitchen organ by the Whirlpool fridge. 

He followed her eyes and eyed the green digital numbers at the top. "Humph…I thought that was just an extremely large clock." 

She sighed hopelessly at the pot-vacant cupboards. "You really don't have a pot, do you?" 

"Not that I'm aware of," he answered proudly. 

"You depress me."

"I usually just sponge off food from the neighbors."

"How do you live with yourself?" 

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"Hi!" Their heads poked in front of the doorframe in front of the unfortunate person answering the door. Jackson Sr. shook his head slightly at the sight in front of him. "Breakfast already?" He stepped aside and let the beggars in. 

"I would've made breakfast, but the big money-making celebrity here has no cooking gadgets whatsoever in his happy little mansion." They walked into the kitchen. 

"That's Jett for you." 

"Do you people not notice that I'm standing right here?" He asked as they began a conversation about his faults. Jett glared at them as he followed into the living room, Wood out in front. 

"I can't believe you do this every morning," she remarked. He moved up, walking side by side with her. 

"Eh, the food's good." He looked over at her as she began to roll her eyes, suddenly freezing in the midst of her actions. 

"K, what's-" He stopped in mid sentence and froze along with her. 

Mrs. West walked over to the two and cupped her hands in her daughter's, pulling her further into the living room. "Look who's here!"

 She smiled weakly, the blood draining from her face. "Jeffrey." 

He wore his trademark grin. The grin of sincerity that surfaced in tabloids featuring his clients, newspaper ads. Her forced out exuberance as he lifted Lorelei's small hand. "Hi, Mommy."  

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Very short, and I've actually had this chapter sitting her for about two months. I'm really sorry about that, but now it's posted! 


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